


Reset

by Letterblade



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (not in a play context tho), Brief Exploration of Space Bathroom Business, Collars, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fisting, Gangbang, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Multi, Overstimulation, Polydins, Praise Kink, Rimming, Safeword Use, Sex Toys, Shibari, Tentacles, The Loving Consensual Gangbang Shiro Deserves, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterblade/pseuds/Letterblade
Summary: It's been a busy few months, but Shiro's doing all right, really. He's fine. He just can't remember the last time he was well and truly relaxed.Keith knows what he needs.





	Reset

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted on [my tumblr](http://letterblade.tumblr.com) in thirty non-chronological segments for Kinktober 2018. (Running well into November because _life._ Why is life.) You can highlight the divider above each segment to see which day and kink it was.
> 
> Handwave, handwave, everyone's all growed up, polydins are a thing. Not tagging every kinktober day, bc ye gods, and the overarching story led to me picking a lot of the tamer ones. Tagging Keith/Shiro since here they're the kind of married primaries where Keith directs his husband's gangbang. Thanks to Mllelaurel for beta!

 

Day 28 — Stripping/Striptease

 

Keith’s fingers run along the edge of Shiro’s uniform collar as he pulls back from their kiss, and with slow care, looking steadily up at Shiro, he undoes the top clasp. “There’s nothing else you need to do tonight?” he asks quietly.

“No.” Shiro licks his lips, swallows a jolt of excitement and nerves. “Not except you.”

“Eyyyy,” says Lance, from somewhere at his feet, and he hears the buzz of a zipper.

“Behind you,” Hunk murmurs, courteous, and thick, strong arms slide around his waist to unbuckle his belt.

“Should I,” Shiro starts to say, hand twitching towards his waist.

“Nah,” Hunk says, unclipping it and sliding it free. “We’re gonna strip you, okay?”

Shiro takes a deep, shaky breath, and he can feel Hunk’s bulk behind him, and he relaxes slowly. They’ve seen it before, of course they’ve seen it before; if they want him naked while they’re all still in their civvies, it’s not his place to gainsay it. And it sparks a coil of heat low in his belly. Old, old kinks, blurred-focus college fantasies of being put on display—Lance’s hand slides up his leg. “Step out?”

Hunk steadies him. He lifts his foot. Lance wiggles off his boot, peels off his sock, tucks the one into the other and sets it aside. Then, with an impulsive flick of his tongue, kisses the other before slowly dragging the zipper down.

Keith undoes another clasp on his uniform tunic. “We’ll stop for a code red, from you or the universe.”

“Otherwise,” Allura says, combing fingers through his hair, “nothing outside this room matters for the rest of the night.”

Shiro nods. “I understand.”

“We’re gonna relax with you for a bit,” Lance says. “And get you nice and clean. Step out?”

Shiro lifts his other foot, and then he’s barefoot on the smooth deck. It’s warm under his feet. Maybe somebody had tinkered with this room’s environment, or maybe the _Atlas_ herself is spontaneously accommodating him—that happens sometimes.

“I’m going to collar you,” Keith says, matter-of-fact, as he works down the front of his uniform tunic, and Shiro _knew_ that, they’re just restating what they’d already negotiated, but hearing the words still nudges something deep in his chest. He ducks his head to bump his forehead against Keith’s. Keith answers with a kiss, fingers trailing along the folds of his undershirt.

“We’re each going to take a turn,” Allura says, when Keith pulls back, and her finger traces Shiro’s lips. “Once with your mouth, once with your ass.”

Somebody gropes him on queue, and he breathes out a laugh, kissing Allura’s fingertip. Small hands. Pidge must have slipped in there. “We might use toys or tie you up,” she says. The _might_ , Shiro thinks, is an allowance for no bondage if he’s twitchy in the moment. Pidge _always_ uses toys. “No blindfolds, gags, knifeplay, or impact play.” That’s a reassurance, a reminder about what edgeplay they’re taking off the table. And what they aren’t. Shiro nods, head sagging forward a little. “Do you need to know more?” Pidge asks.

“No.” Shiro shakes his head. “Let it be spontaneous. Please.”

“No plan survives first contact with the enemy,” Lance says with a lopsided grin, nuzzling Shiro’s still-clothed knee.

“Oh, so I’m the enemy now,” Shiro says lightly.

“Nope,” Hunk says. “Just everything that stands between you and us. Like this.” He pulls Shiro’s uniform jacket open and peels it off him, popping the custom-tailored right shoulder off the ring of his implant and pulling it through the empty space between shoulder and elbow. The strange tingle of something in-between, inside his arm, runs down Shiro’s spine. Hunk’s warmth moves away as he goes to fold the jacket and leave it on a bench, and Pidge steps in instead, tugging his undershirt out of the waistband of his uniform trousers.

“And this,” she says, rolling it up away from bare skin. Keith helps, guiding Shiro’s arm, popping the shirt over his head once Pidge is on her tiptoes.

Lance, kneeling up, kisses his belly, firm enough not to tickle, just near the seam running up his abdomen—the one he’d always been the most reluctant to show, left by the vivisection he mostly, blessedly, doesn’t remember. Shiro feels his breath hitch. Feels hands wander on his bare back. They know him. It’s all right. Lance is undoing his fly, and Keith has moved a little to one side, and there’s more than one pair of hands sliding his pants and boxers down.

Lance, never one to hide his thirst, licks his lips as they bare Shiro’s cock, already stirring with interest through his lingering stress.

“Later, dear,” Allura tells him fondly. She’s holding Shiro’s right hand. He can feel the soft pressure of her grip, the cool smoothness of her spacesuit’s half-gloves, the edge of one nail. His pants puddle on the floor, and he steps out of them obediently, and then he’s standing amongst them in nothing but his wedding ring, exposed while they’re all clothed, and a shiver of arousal chases over his skin.

“We’ll take care of you when we’re done, of course,” Hunk says. “You okay with sleeping here?”

Shiro contemplates the walk back to his quarters, in the state he’d be in after something like this, from this out-of-the-way room—the _we’re totally going to pretend this is a comfy Paladins-and-Captain-only lounge but let’s be real it’s the orgy room_ , as Pidge called it. And nods, grateful. “That sounds like a good plan.” He hesitates. Tells himself firmly that he’s allowed to ask. “Not…alone?”

“Of course not,” Keith says readily. “I already brought our stuff.” Then he snorts. “Also Kosmo will probably show up. I hope not in the middle of things. Can’t exactly lock him out.”

“I played with him for an hour straight and then fed him steak,” Hunk says. “He should be conked out for a while.”

Shiro laughs. “Good plan.”

“Spoiled puppy,” Lance says with a grin.

“Shiro,” Allura asks, squeezing his hand. “May I take this?”

Shiro takes a careful breath, and lets it out, and nods. He’s here to feel, to let them do what they want with him; he doesn’t need it, and trying to keep track of it in the tangle would be a distraction. He slides his other hand along the rim of his shoulder implant, triggering the concealed biosensors that only answer to him, and closes his eyes for a moment to _will_ it to shut down. Two-stage security, mental and physical.

The sensation of Allura’s hand winks out, and his awareness shrinks back down into his right shoulder, small and compact. The distant, scattered proprioception of the entire _Atlas_ , deck by deck down to her shining heart, becomes more distant; he could reach for her, he knows, but it would be difficult with the arm dormant, and would probably trigger its start-up cycle.

He opens his eyes to see Allura’s fond smile, and she leans up to kiss his cheek softly, cradling his sleeping arm in hers.

 

Day 24 — Shower/Bath

 

They start slow, of course, and in the bathroom. Their turns through the sonic shower are perfunctory, doing the actual job of cleaning in twenty seconds, and some of them don’t even bother to strip all the way. Hunk’s mostly dressed. Keith’s in his shirtsleeves, Pidge in her cargo shorts and a tank top. Allura, at least, ever-comfortable in her skin, is letting down her hair and peeling out of her suit, so Shiro isn’t the only one naked.

Lance is already drawing the water bath, just short of steaming and sprinkled with some alien petals that fill the room with a soft, relaxing scent, grassy and not too sweet. He and Allura are murmuring amongst themselves, plotting something involving bath products as she absentmindedly divests him of his clothing.

“I’ll go, ah,” Shiro says, and nods at the door to the toilet stall.

“Of course,” Allura says kindly. “Take your time.”

This particular little corner of the _Atlas_ is hers, and Allura has made sure to install a full space bathroom with all the amenities. Including the clever Altean device that Shiro can only think of as a sonic douche. It’s thinner than Pidge’s pinky, absolutely frictionless, and warms to his body temperature at a touch, so really, as far as alien anal probes go, it’s not bad.

Shiro takes a moment just to sit in the comfortable little stall and breathe. He’s rattling with excitement, fidgeting with the rim of his shoulder implant—there’s that odd _lack_ of tingle now that it’s deactivated. He makes use of the high-tech nozzle that makes his grandmother’s talking Japanese toilet look primitive and is _so_ much more comfortable than the Garrison ship hoses. Then, slow and methodical with just his left, a detailed scrub-down with a handheld cleanser, to make sure there’s nothing unpleasant left anywhere on the outside. Then he sets about his business with the sonic douche, one leg propped up against a foothold.

Allura’s offered in the past to make this part of the play, because she’s like that, but as far as Shiro’s concerned, personal business is personal business. Besides, he likes the time to fuss, make himself presentable, get his head in order. He rests a temple against the cool smooth wall, maneuvering the probe into position. It takes him more tries than he’d like to admit to get a real deep breath, the down-to-his-toes kind that lets him blow off tension.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to himself. “It’s okay if you freak out and need to stop. You know that. Proven fact.” Not a pleasant night at the time, when some random combination of teeth in his skin and hands at his throat threw him into a full flashback while handcuffed to a bed, but he can’t forget Keith and Hunk’s accepting generosity. He’d been livid at himself, of course, but _they_ hadn’t. “They’ll forgive you and you’ll get another chance. It won’t change the important things.” Lance had straight-up promised, eyebrows cocked, that if Shiro ever needed to tap out, he’d _personally_ make sure everyone else was satisfied who wanted it. Shiro still isn’t quite sure what it says about him that he’d found it strangely reassuring. Also they need to give Lance his night in the middle someday soon—he isn’t sure why they’re so set on indulging him now—but that will have to wait a little, apparently.

He’s not having a jumpy day, at least. The small room is comfortable, not rattling his nerves under his skin. He’s the normal amount of underslept, perhaps more stressed from workload than usual, and he doesn’t care to calculate how long it’s been since he’s been well and truly fucked. Not that he hasn’t gone _far_ longer—he’s getting spoiled. But he’s not in a bad way. As ready as he can be. A second deep breath, a third, and the whisper-smooth probe slides home without a hitch.

The other reason he does this alone is that he really can’t help an undignified yelp as the sonic probe briskly cleans his insides with a sensation somewhere between intensely buzzy vibration and intensely carbonated water. Not that he won’t be making undignified yelps later, surely, but that’s different.

He eases it back out and slots it into the wall for its own cleaning cycle. A few reflexive shivers run through his body, and he knows he’ll be defensively clenched for a bit after this, but he trusts them to take their time with that. He straightens, cleans his hand, looks down at himself and the scatters of white hair he’s finally getting used to, and absentmindedly combs fingers through his bangs.

He trusts them.

He trusts himself as much as he ever can. And he’s clean as he could ever be.

He slips back through the bathroom door hoping that he won’t be greeted with _too_ much clamoring—and, to his relief, he’s not. The bath is full, and Allura is lounging chest deep in it, loose hair floating on the petaled water, as Lance massages her scalp. Pidge has plopped down on the edge to splish her feet in the water, and Keith is talking quietly with Hunk, and those two notice and turn. Keith smiles, one of those soft ones that reaches his eyes, and Hunk beams. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Shiro says, and reaches for his hand. Keith stretches up to kiss him, deep and languid, and Hunk drapes on his shoulders, and both of them are still wearing their half-gloves, rough and teasing on his bare skin.

“Aww yes,” Lance says. “C’mon in.”

Hunk’s hand on the back of his neck nudges him forward.

Shiro slides obediently into the bath, settles on the bench within, and can’t help a long, subliminal groan of contentment. The water’s perfect. Salted, he suspects, given the bouyancy. This close, the relaxing scent from those petals is stronger, and for a few moments he just marinates with his eyes closed in unrestrained bliss.

“Shiro,” comes Allura’s voice, warm and gentle. “May we touch you?”

“Mm,” he says, and nods, and opens his eyes. Allura’s right in front of him, breasts half-submerged and shining entrancingly as the water laps at them. Barely a moment after he answers, soft wiry limbs drape against his side, and the warm satisfaction of bare skin against bare skin fills his chest.

“We are going to moisturize the shit out of you,” Lance whispers enticingly in his ear as he picks up his hand to massage it gently, and Shiro snorts a laugh, melting against him.

He’s not, in fact, joking. Whatever gel Lance and Allura start rubbing him down with is luxurious, leaving his skin so soft it almost doesn’t feel like his own. The wet hot skin contact is making him hazy with raw pleasure, and at some point Lance is giving him a scalp massage with something that smells almost like green tea. “You’re spoiling me,” he murmurs, somewhere in there, as Allura works lotion into his forearm along with a massage that sends shudders of release from shoulder to fingertips.

“No,” Keith says, low and firm. “They’re giving you exactly what you deserve.”

 

Day 29 — Massage

 

The spoiling becomes truly dangerous when Hunk reaches for a bottle of lotion, pours some over his hands, and rubs them together.

Shiro’s been well and truly scrubbed, gradually coaxed out of the bath, toweled dry. His skin’s so smooth he has to resist the temptation to rub his legs together like some oversized cricket. His hair’s still a little damp, but the short cut dries quickly enough, and they’re not letting him keep a towel, and there’s a pile of them to pad one of the little benches.

“Down you go,” Hunk says fondly, and points.

“Pushing my comfort zone this early in the evening, huh,” Shiro says, wry, and goes to lie dutifully on his face.

“What, we weren’t already?” Hunk slides a slippery hand along his shoulderblade, swings a knee over his waist, and settles, lightly. Even knowing Shiro’s strength, he’s always cautious to put his full weight on him.

His broad thumbs trace the muscles at the base of Shiro’s neck, and Shiro groans into the towels in spite of himself.

He starts light, coaxing. Light for Hunk’s massages, anyway, long slow strokes that ease him into things. Hunk’s managed, when he’s trying to really unknot the deep snarls, to make _Shiro_ howl in pain—and be in head-spinningly less pain the next morning. But Shiro doubts that’s on the agenda for tonight. Sure enough, Hunk doesn’t dig hard, but he zeros in on the sore spots with uncanny instinct, kneading slowly until a nimbus of muzzy relief starts spreading over Shiro’s skull.

He’s groaning into the towels. He might be drooling a little; he swallows guiltily, trying to contain it. He should see how the others are doing, he thinks, and in hazy glimpses he sees Allura and Pidge making out, Pidge groping her thoroughly. Lance, fully at attention, with a flush to his cheek and parted lips and the particular poleaxed look he gets after Allura eats his face off. Keith leaning against Hunk’s back with his cheek against his bicep, watching him work with satisfaction. Bare feet plap on the not-quite-slick tile, and Lance’s hands wrap around Shiro’s before he starts working his hand and arm again, light and sweet against Hunk’s deeper strokes.

“I’m gonna get that hangnail,” he says, like he’s calling dibs on a sentry that’s _personally_ annoyed him, and starts rubbing something slick and softening into one side of Shiro’s middle finger. Shiro tries to thank him, and it comes out muddled as Hunk leans more of his weight between his shoulderblades, and some knot in his spine pops free and he slurs like a drunken man. Lance just grins, almost predatory, and clips the hangnail away with great satisfaction. Then Hunk shimmies down to start working at Shiro’s hips and ass, and that isn’t exactly making him _less_ muddled. The opposite, in fact.

“Okay, well,” Hunk says, “if I keep going, we’re probably going to have to carry him into the bedroom.”

“I _could_ ,” Allura says brightly. Then squeaks as Pidge licks her ear.

“I mean, so could I, but…”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Let’s not wear him out _too_ fast.”

 

Day 17 — Collaring

 

They’ve gone into the bedroom, and Shiro’s scrubbed dry and boneless from Hunk’s hands, lotion-soft. Hands wander—his shoulders, folding over his own hand. It would almost be chaste if he wasn’t already naked amongst them.

Lance claims him for a kiss, long and sweet and eager, and then Hunk gives him a luxurious chaser, and Allura does that mouse-like nose-twitch of affection against his cheek she does sometimes, and Pidge just bites his bicep lovingly.

Then it’s Keith, and he doesn’t kiss him yet, just squeezes his hand, and looks him dead in the eye, and asks, quietly, “You ready?”

Shiro takes a deep, slow breath. Closes his eyes. He’s clean, relaxed, no pressing physical needs. There’s no fear or doubt clutching at his heart. Excitement gnawing just under his skin, maybe, but not the chill crawling that could mean some embarrassing panic attack about to spring on him. Just rising desire, open to what they’re going to give him.

He opens his eyes, and nods, and sinks to his knees. His mouth’s dry—he doesn’t quite trust his voice to come out right suddenly, but Keith knows that this is as good as a yes. He spreads his knees, bracing himself, resting his weight back on his heels, and lets his hand settle palm-up on his thigh.

Somebody, maybe multiple somebodies, make soft appreciative noises.

Keith takes a step closer, drags a hand slowly through his hair, and pulls out the bit of leather folded in his pocket. The buckle clinks as it falls open, and the smell hits Shiro, and he breathes out a few battle-packed months of tension, and bows his head just slightly.

It’s not in Keith’s nature to fuss about this sort of thing, so he wraps the leather around Shiro’s neck and buckles it without commentary. The single ring rests cool against the hollow of his throat, and his mind becomes quiet. The relief is—palpable. Maybe he had needed this more than he’d admitted. Hands settle on his shoulders, the nape of his neck, the back of his head, and he wonders if they’re all touching him.

One hand nudges his chin up, and he follows it without resistance to find himself looking up at Keith’s face. There’s a smile at the corner of his mouth, small and satisfied, and his eyes are very warm. His hand traces Shiro’s face, jaw. “You’re ours, yeah?”

Shiro nods, just a tiny jerk, relief flooding warm to his toes. “Yeah. All yours.”

Keith’s hand drops to tug at the ring of his collar. “Come here, then.”

Shiro rises, kneeling up, and before he stands, Keith bends over to meet him halfway and kisses him like he could reach his soul through his mouth, deep and devouring.

 

Day 26 — Toys

 

Allura’s hand smoothes down Shiro’s hip, and Keith says, quiet and matter-of-fact while still holding the ring of his collar, “They’re going to put a cock ring on you now.”

Shiro swallows, and nods just a little, and shuffles on his knees to spread them. There’s not going to be a lot of focus on his dick—that’s how they’d negotiated this. They might play with him some for their amusement, but it’ll mostly be about taking their pleasure from him, fucking him, things like that. He’s more comfortable that way, especially with five of them. There’s really only so often he can come in a night, after all. So a cock ring’s not surprising.

Pidge fishes in her pocket—one of several cargo pockets, who knows what else she’s got in there—and pulls out a single heavy ring, sleek white-silver, flowing into a tongue of metal.

“Oh, boy,” Lance blurts, flushing a little. “Oh, you are so screwed.”

Allura breathes on her palms to warm them and gathers up his half-hard cock and balls, her touch gentle and purely practical. Hunk’s holding his hand—not by the wrist, not pinning him, but his thumb’s rubbing over the base of Shiro’s in one last bit of massage, and his other arm’s deactivated, and it’s almost strange to have people’s hands on his dick this soon, calmly possessive. Pidge opens the ring, and they fuss together for a moment, making sure it’s settled just so and nothing’s pinching.

It closes with a soft click, with the tongue pressing down against his perineum, and then tightens a little, shaping itself to the just-so snugness that’ll make him achingly hard. Shiro hears his breath hitch, shifts his hips a little as he gets used to how it cradles him, the pressure and tug on his balls. Hunk’s let go by now, and Shiro touches the thing just once, lightly, feeling the weight of it, and resists the temptation to curl his hand around his hardening dick. “Is this the one that…”

“Lets you come as much as we want without jizzing and going soft?” Pidge says with a grin. “Hey, Keith, want the key?”

“Nah, you can keep it.” At Keith’s answer, Pidge turns a little blinking blue disk over in her right hand and slaps it onto the back of her left, where it adheres. The realization that it’s locked sends a small, nervous thrill through Shiro’s gut. His own body’s responses, out of his control—it should be more frightening than it is, but it’s _them_.

“Remember that he can’t handle as much overstimulation as Lance,” Allura says diplomatically.

“Jeez,” Lance says. “Menace me later, I’m trying to get into top mode here.”

“Difficult for you, huh,” Keith says, deadpan.

“Get stuffed, mullet.”

Shiro finds himself reaching up for Lance’s hand without thinking about it much. “You don’t have to—”

Somebody makes a huff of disapproval, and Lance smiles sharply. “Nah, I wanna. We all wanna.” He hooks a finger through the ring on Shiro’s collar and bends over to claim another kiss. Shiro closes his eyes and melts into it. Having the full force of Lance’s eager-to-please oral fixation directed pretty much _anywhere_ is a little overwhelming, and he’s using more teeth than usual, and by the time it’s over, he’s breathing a little fast. It doesn’t help that Hunk’s scruffing a heavy hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. That Allura, still crouching beside him, has leaned in to tease the rim of his ear with tongue and teeth.

“It won’t end just because you have an accident,” she murmurs in his ear. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Just relax,” Lance adds, breath warm on Shiro’s lips. “Let yourself feel whatever happens. You’re gonna feel _amazing_ when we’re done with you.”

 

Day 30 — Breast Worship

 

Allura stands, naked and languid, and Shiro’s still kneeling up, and she swishes her loose hair over one shoulder with a careless gesture, moving it off her bare breast. They’re right in front of him, nipples perking, and he swallows as they catch his eye.

Allura smiles, indulgent, and reaches to cradle the back of his head and draw him in. “Go ahead,” she murmurs sweetly. It’s a dangerous sort of tone in her voice, the tone that means she might spin off into overwhelming praise, and Shiro’s not ready for that, Shiro’s just starting to sink in, but she controls herself and hooks a finger in his collar instead. Gently—she could hold him there sure as an iron chain, but she’s not, and he gives in to instinct and buries his face in the softness of one breast with a sigh. He’s not a boob man particularly—that’s Pidge, really, of any of them—but they’re soft and warm, skin like silk, and make her sigh with pleasure.

Hands wander, now with _intent_. Shiro has his focus, pleasing her, so he closes his eyes and kisses a soft circle all around one nipple before lapping at it and earning a sweet purr of pleasure. He sighs, cradles her breast in his one hand, settles in. Keith and Pidge are blunt nails, him over his shoulders, her teasing at sensitive spots along his hips and thighs. Lance is nuzzling his back, arms sliding around to hug him just under the ribs. The contact sends his bare skin buzzing, subliminal shivers as his nerves remind him that he’s very much in a body, that bodies feel pleasure, that he’s _alive_. Blood’s pooling in his cock beyond the ring’s constriction, a slow delicious ache of arousal that he knows will only build and build.

Pidge’s fingers trace along his length, just once, and he muffles his gasp in Allura’s breasts. “He’s all turned on now,” she observes, casual and dangerous, and leans in to nibble gently at his ear.

“Well, he’s in heaven,” Lance laughs fondly.

“And doing—” Allura’s voice breaks mid-sentence on a squeak as Shiro lavishes attention on one nipple, and he feels another thrum of satisfaction. Excitement. “Quite a good job of it.”

“You ready for more?” Hunk asks, voice soft, perhaps a little with nerves.

Shiro’s caution, his hedging of bets, is falling away. It isn’t rational—the minefield in his brain could ruin this any time—he can’t entirely believe the promise in their hands and mouths. But it’s like opening the jet intake after he’s been puttering to the runway on landing gear, the thrum through his bones that shakes away any cloudiness that doesn’t belong in this moment and makes things _real_. This is real. Allura tugs at the collar like she _knows_ , and he opens his mouth wide and buries his face, not even breathing for a moment, and when he surfaces he’s got his head tipped back and probably some sort of idiot grin on his face as he traces his tongue along her skin.

“Yeah,” Keith answers for him. “Go for it.”

 

Day 12 — Rimming

 

Shiro has been on his knees since Keith collared him, and when Hunk slides down next to Lance and kisses his shoulder, he realizes he’s probably not going to be standing any time soon. Maybe not for the entire evening. He’s still warm and rubbery from Hunk’s massage earlier, but _this_ —he can feel the intent in Hunk’s mouth. The kisses he plants down his spine as he gently, inexorably tips Shiro forward onto some pillows that somebody’s made appear while he was face-first in Allura’s chest. His broad tongue teasing the sensitive spots on his back, ignoring the scars with unpleasant sensation like he’s got every inch of Shiro’s skin mapped.

Which he—probably does. Shiro can hear his breath getting shaky. Allura’s petting him fondly as he buries his face in her thigh, and Hunk’s working his way lower, smoothing his hands down Shiro’s own thighs. His back tingles, coming alive under Hunk’s generous mouth. By the time Hunk’s kissing his tailbone, swirling his tongue round each of the little dimples at the base of his spine, Shiro knows all too sure where he’s going—but he’s talking his sweet time, and that isn’t helping the shivery coil of anticipation building in Shiro’s core.

By the time Hunk finally pulls his cheeks apart and presses his first soft, almost chaste kiss to Shiro’s hole, he’s so primed that he gives a shaky little moan against the curve of Allura’s belly. And when his tongue flickers, tracing the sensitive skin feather-light and sending exquisite little curls of pleasure up his spine, Shiro can’t manage to swallow his noises. He doesn’t have to, he tells himself. He doesn’t have to—he’s safe, they _want_ to hear him—Allura’s making little appreciative murmurs above him—

“Oh wow,” Lance says.

They’re all watching. They’re all watching, and listening, and Shiro buries his face in satiny brown skin and shivers to pieces, because Hunk’s mind-blowingly good at this, and merciless, and giving his all. He’s got Shiro by the upper thighs now, holding part of his body weight, pinning his hips in place as he squirms against Hunk’s tongue in spite of himself. It’s almost-too-much, he’s making hoarse whines in the back of his throat, and Allura’s hand gently but inexorably turns his face to one side so he can’t muffle himself.

“Oh _wow_ ,” Lance says again, earnest and adoring, and traces his fingers over Shiro’s cheekbone.

 

Day 6 — Biting

 

A warm, strong hand runs up Shiro’s bare back, and he knows without having to think that it’s Keith. He’d know those hands anywhere. That weight dipping the pillows around him. Hunk pulls on Shiro’s hips, drags him up until he’s practically levitating, breathless and squirming from the wicked things Hunk’s tongue is doing to his sensitive rim, and Keith leans in and drags his teeth along the edge of Shiro’s ear.

Shiro groans, nowhere to hide his face, and feels like his brain’s shorting out. His ears have always been a weak point. Keith’s tongue traces around it, then his teeth again. A little sharper than a human’s, a little more dangerous. Somebody grabs the ring at the front of Shiro’s collar, strong and unyielding—Allura?—for a moment he shivers, fighting for air, things are coming at him quickly—teeth close at the back of his neck, high, between the collar and his close-shorn hairline.

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs against sensitive skin, fervent, breath hot like a static shock. “We’ve got you. We’re going to take care of you.”

Shiro makes some small choked noise in his throat, and his cock twitches in its heavy metal ring, and delicious shuddering surrender jolts down his spine. Cool slim fingers stroke his cheek. Keith bites down again, firm and possessive, and Shiro goes limp, sagging between them all like Keith’s hit an off switch. Or an on switch. Whichever.

“There, my lovely,” Allura says, sweet and soft. “There you go. You don’t need to do anything but enjoy this and do as we say. Right?”

“Nn…but I…” The resistance, the protest, utterly irrational, bubbles in Shiro’s throat—this is too much kindness, he needs to give them something in return, he doesn’t deserve…

“I know you want to be good for us,” Keith murmurs, and another one of those shudders runs down his spine. He’s falling. Falling. One last squeeze of sharp teeth and then Keith eases up, his strong callused hand replacing his mouth, holding the back of Shiro’s neck like he’s got him by the scruff. A rustle. Allura’s moving. “Show me.”

Shiro hazes into focus to see Keith in front of him instead, sliding his underwear down his thighs. He’s already quite hard, enough to show that adorable upward curve his cock has. His human cock, at least. It would take a lot more to push him over the edge into _changing_ like he can these days. Maybe—maybe Shiro can get him there, tonight, if he’s good, if everyone’s good…

His weight’s on his left arm and he doesn’t have his other, so all he can do is lean forward a little and press a kiss to the very tip, soft over the slit, reverent. Then the sensitive underside, just below the head. He kisses along the veins. Down the shaft, blood-hot, velvety skin over the hard core of it. Allura and Hunk are rearranging him, gently, like he’s a doll, recentering his weight a little so that he can lift up his hand, cradle Keith’s balls just how he likes as he humbly worships his cock. Pressing his cheek against it, each side, just like Keith sometimes rubs his cheek on him when he’s too out of it to stop himself, and there’s a soft, stricken noise from above him. Keith’s hand tightens in his collar, and he looks up, and they lock gazes, and Shiro shivers at the coiled intensity in his husband’s eyes.

Hunk takes the opportunity to press against Shiro’s twitching hole with his tongue, _hard_ , and Shiro moans as the almost-too-much quivery pleasure runs through him, and Keith’s cock drags at his lower lip, and Keith whispers, “Good.”

 

Day 10 — Hairpulling

 

“All right,” Keith says, low and dangerous, and grabs a fistful of hair at the top of Shiro’s head. “Enough playing around.”

Shiro feels the breath leave him in a shaky gasp, and there’s one stab of reflexive alarm before he meets Keith’s eyes above him. Keith’s other hand trails lightly over Shiro’s collar, and Shiro’s mouth moves, wordless. _I’m good._ Just before Hunk does something that makes him moan outright.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Keith mutters, a smile tugging at his mouth, and pulls Shiro down on his cock.

Shiro groans, muffled, and hollows his cheeks, and works him as best as he can, but Keith isn’t giving him much room for art. Hard tugs to his hair, sometimes just because he can, rough and demanding and perfect. Almost too much, more than once, and Shiro has to open his eyes, take stock—

He’s looking right at Lance, foreshortened, already naked from the bath, with the heel of his hand jammed into his thigh next to his very hard dick, biting his lip hard.

Keith notices his distraction, of course, because he’s terrifyingly transparent to Keith when they’re like this, and that’s—good, it’s good, it feels like the ground falling out from under him sometimes, but it’s good—Shiro’s mouth waters. Waters more. He’s had to brace himself on his arm again with Keith jerking him around, and he can’t reach for Lance, but he can’t take his eyes off him either. Even as Keith thrusts roughly, as Hunk’s tongue makes his spine shiver.

Then Keith looks over. “Don’t you have something better to do with that?” he asks, just as Lance curls his hand around the base of his own dick, looking more than a little desperate.

“I thought you were having a moment, man,” Lance blurts. “You looked like you were having a moment?”

Keith just jerks his head in a come-here sort of gesture, and when Lance scampers eagerly up, drags Shiro by the hair off his own dick and onto Lance’s. Keith’s cock brushes Shiro’s cheek as he sucks desperately, feels Lance twitch against his tongue, and some raw, shuttered part of his brain hazes out in sheer satisfaction.

Lance’s hand, soft and expressive, threads through his hair even as Keith holds him there long and deep enough to gag, and he blurts, “Holy _shit,_ Keith. Did you feel that? You need to feel that.”

And with a bravura glint, he pulls Shiro off and passes him right back to Keith by the hair, a different cock sliding deep in his mouth, and Shiro shudders pliant between them.

“Yeah,” Lance breathes, dragging his short blunt nails down the back of Shiro’s neck in sheer affection. “Yeah, we’re gonna fuck you stupid.”

 

Day 11 — Object Insertion

 

“Tag,” comes Pidge’s voice from somewhere behind Shiro.

“Aww,” Hunk says, breath tickling his hypersensitive rim. He’s still holding Shiro’s ass helplessly snug, cheeks spread, quivering nervelessly from his earnest attention. “I mean, okay, fair, I think he’s pretty ready…”

Keith pulls Shiro’s face off Lance’s cock by the hair, and Lance, aching hard, whines and clutches Shiro’s shoulder. “Are you ready, Shiro? “ Keith’s voice is rough around the edges. “Want them to open you up?”

“Y…” Shiro rasps, and he licks his lips, swallows hard. “Yes…yes…” His voice jumps at the last, breathy, as Hunk plants one last adoring kiss on his hole, and then his mouth is full of Lance’s dick again. Rustling. Hunk letting him down gently, making sure he’s steady on all threes with a few pillows for comfort. Soft pop of a cap.

“Mm, hello,” Pidge says fondly, and her small wet fingers trail up Shiro’s crack, circling his hole.

“Easy at first,” Keith murmurs, hand tight on the back of Shiro’s neck. “You know how he is.”

“‘Course. I brought a toy for that.”

“You al—aahhh—ways have a toy for that,” Lance says, voice trembling.

“What can I say, I’m a tool-using ape.” Her other hand slides up Shiro’s spine, down, over his flank. “Hunk did a number on you, didn’t he? You’re quivering. Like you’d open right up if I just…” A press of her fingertip, dipping into him effortlessly, and Shiro makes some soft noise around Lance’s cock, squirms to spread his legs a little further. “Oh, yes, look at you…” She ducks her head to kiss one ass cheek as she teases him. Then bites it. “ _Ahm_. You’re all hot and tight today. The other boys are going to like that once you’re ready.”

“Not _just_ the boys,” Allura puts in, mock-offended.

Pidge laughs. “Oh, if _she’s_ gonna fuck you, you’d better be ready. Here…” A second finger, sliding in not quite as easily, and Shiro shudders. Keith holds his head back by the hair, mouth empty, nothing to muffle his moan as Pidge works her fingers deeper, and then pulls him back down on his own cock. Her hand leaves his thigh. “Lube me up, Hunk—oh, hey, where’d he go?”

“Cleaning his mouth,” Allura says. “Here…”

Shiro feels a prickle down his spine—he doesn’t know what Pidge is using, she’s clearly about to put something inside him and he doesn’t even know what—and Keith smoothes a hand down his cheek even as he fucks his face gagging-deep. “Nothing’s gonna happen that you’re not ready for,” he says quietly. “Trust us. Take it.”

Shiro closes his eyes with a shudder of surrender, sagging forward just a little, and Pidge makes an appreciative and hungry noise behind him, and her fingers twist, and then they’re deftly replaced with something smooth and cool and blunt. Small, not much wider than her two fingers. The tip sinks in easily. She works it in with short, sweet strokes, opening him up a little more. Not nearly as much as he expected. A narrow neck slides in, pulling it deeper and punching a little gasp out of him, and he can feel the base. Just a small plug, with a little give as he bears down reflexively, angled for a faint tease to his prostate.

“There,” Pidge says, patting his ass. “Just let that settle in for a bit.”

“Man, Pidge, I did not even think you _owned_ a toy that small,” Lance says, hand wandering on Shiro’s shoulder, cock bumping his cheek.

“Just wait,” she says, mischief creeping into her voice. “It gets bigger.”

 

Day 21 — Bukkake

 

A little bit later, with Lance’s cock hitting the back of Shiro’s throat, the plug does, in fact, get bigger. Just a little. The sensation still wrings a moan out of him, fullness without movement or warning.

“Jesus fuck if you keep doing that I am not going to last,” Lance gasps in one breath.

“There’ll be time for another round,” Keith says, voice tight with need. He’s red and blood-hot against Shiro’s cheek, velvety skin grinding on his face as he drags Shiro’s head back and forth on Lance’s cock. “Go ahead.”

Lance’s hand is digging into Shiro’s shoulder, clutching desperately, and he fucks his face once, twice, before managing, “Got a better idea. Keith—Keith, leggo.”

Shiro pants for air as Keith’s grip eases up, and Lance pulls out with a roll of his hips and an aching whine. Shiro’s hand twitches against his thigh, and Pidge catches it and bites his shoulder, and Lance looks down at him with an adoring wild light in his eye.

“Tongue out, captain,” he breathes.

Keith’s hand twitches in Shiro’s hair, tightening.

Shiro feels a coil of thick and utterly illicit heat in his belly, and tips his head back, and opens his mouth.

Lance’s hand moves quick and needy, squeezing just so, and he makes those very sweet noises he always makes, and his come hits Shiro’s face hot and bitter, forehead, cheek, splattering over tongue and chin.

“Fuck,” Keith whispers, and drags a thumb through Lance’s come, smearing it down Shiro’s cheek. Pidge’s nails run down his forearm, light and possessive, as she gnaws gently on him. Shiro sways on his knees—he can smell it, they’ve barely even started and he’s already smelling come, and it’s hitting some raw, shameless, gut-level _need_ that he doesn’t entirely want to admit to. The one about being used that’s stuck around in spite of everything. He’s wringing Pidge’s hand, he realizes as she pats the back of his.

“Yeah?” she says, subliminal.

“Yes,” Shiro manages. “Please.”

“Should we,” Hunk starts, coming back out of the bathroom just as Keith puts his knuckles under Shiro’s chin to keep his face up, not letting him look away. “Oh—oh, wow, yeah, okay, hold that thought.”

“Good call, Lance,” Keith says, dragging Shiro’s lip down with his thumb, love in his eyes. His other hand’s on his cock, moving lazily—speeding up now, and Shiro feels his eyes go hazy, opens his mouth.

“Watch the hair, jeez,” Pidge mumbles, and ducks her head.

Keith chokes his moan behind his teeth as he comes, muscles in his belly clenching, and paints a second splatter all over Shiro’s face.

 

Day 23 — Scars + Shibari

 

“Were you saying something just now?” Lance asks, sounding breathless. Somewhere over Shiro’s head. At Hunk?

“Uh…oh, right, I was wondering if it’s about rope time, probably?”

Allura’s hand combs gently through Shiro’s hair as she crouches to study his face, and Keith’s touching him too, wiping off a drop of come close to his eye. “Shiro?” Allura prompts gently.

“Mn…” Shiro takes a steadying breath, leans into Hunk as he squats next to him. His throat feels a little hoarse, deliciously, from both their cocks. Pidge is passing his hand to Hunk, and it’s enveloped in both of his, broad and warm. They’ll ask about restraining him. Rope time is—just rope. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah.”

Allura kisses the back of his head, and Keith leans down to grab him by the collar and kiss his mouth hungrily, heedless of two loads of come, and Pidge slides a bag over to Hunk.

Keith keeps kissing him, then passing him to Lance almost like before, as uncoiling rope patters on the deck, and Allura and Hunk guide him to kneel up and raise his arm, and then Lance catches his arm to rain kisses along his hand and forearm. The plug grows, and he moans and rocks between them—and Lance is kissing his scars. God. Kissing, rubbing his cheek against them. Split knuckles. The skim of a blade along his forearm, the thickened band where heavy cuffs had worn in, and Allura and Hunk’s hands move over his back and chest as they pass rope between them—he’s looking up at Lance, can’t break his gaze, and Lance’s eyes are blue and bright and full of adoration and maybe, maybe he knows what this is doing to him.

The first turn of rope pulls snug just under his pecs, and Shiro makes some soft, tender noise. Another turn. A slow-building and unyielding embrace. They’re working with great care, smoothing hands over to make sure it’s not twisted, making it comfortable. Not as tight as usual, at least not yet. The plug grows again, bit by inexorable bit. Lance mouths at his big bony knuckles, slides his hand down to the dental imprint of puncture wounds on Shiro’s shoulder.

“Lance,” Shiro manages, swaying as Allura tugs a turn snug above his pecs.

“You’re ours,” Lance murmurs, soft and fierce. “You’re our captain.” He manages to stop himself there, no empty promises about how nothing would hurt him again, but the intent is boiling off him.

“Mm-hm,” Hunk says, and kisses Shiro’s cheek as he passes the line to Allura. “All ours. We’re gonna take care of you.”

“We’re gonna fuck your brains out, is what he means,” Pidge says fondly. Allura’s shifting to be a little more in front of him, doing something elaborate and fidgety between the two thick bands of rope above and below his pecs, and he can’t quite watch because he still can’t quite take his eyes off Lance.

“Among other things,” Allura says sweetly, and tugs. The rope cinches, pulling the two bands closer, tightening all around his chest in a firm embrace, and he sways with a soft noise of surrender. They keep weaving, coaxing his hand free from Lance so they can run lines over his shoulders, expanding the harness, aggressively snug. And as he sags between them, sinking into the delicious haze of being wrapped up tight, Pidge takes her toll, pumping the plug up just a little more, shrinking it, pumping it up again, until he’s moaning, thighs clenching as he tries to rock against it even with Hunk and Allura holding him as they tuck the ends in.

“There we go,” Hunk says, and catches a handful at the back of the harness to give a firm tug. Shiro goes with him like a puppet on a string, no leverage to resist.

“Damn, you look good in that,” Pidge says, and thumbs her remote to bury whatever Shiro might have managed for an answer in a ragged moan as the plug grows another size.

 

Day 9 — Sthenolagnia (Strength/Muscles) (a little) + Bondage

 

Hunk’s hand folds over Shiro’s wrist and squeezes, just gently. “You up for tying this, or should we just leave it at the harness?”

Keith’s hand slides through Shiro’s hair, tips his head back to study his face. “I think he might like it. Shiro…?”

Shiro takes a slow careful breath and closes his eyes for a moment. Soft noises of movement all around him. Lance and Pidge whispering together. Hunk’s breath on the back of his head. Allura’s hands on him, Keith’s. There’s someone holding his arm, and he’s surrounded, and can’t access the prosthetic, and he yet can breathe easy. Keith’s hand smoothes through his hair, like he understands what Shiro’s testing, and Shiro can’t breathe for a moment from how much he loves them all, and licks his lips, and says, “Yes.”

Hunk’s hand tightens on his wrist, just a little; then he lets go, and there’s the tumble of more rope on the floor as he shakes out another hank. Allura’s hands, soft and cool, caress his shoulder and bicep, easing the muscles out just a little more. Keith’s hands are wandering too, circling his mouth, messing up the drying spatter of his and Lance’s come.

Rope winds around Shiro’s wrist, and he takes just a peek, catches Lance and Pidge watching appreciatively, feels heat rise to his face, and keeps breathing. There’s the little nudges and tugs as Hunk works, making a broad and comfortable cuff of rope. Then he’s arranging his arm, pulling it up behind him, folded comfortably in the small of his back. For a moment, Hunk uses his full strength, holding him tight, and Shiro pulls a little against him in spite of himself, testing on instinct. “Is this gonna be comfy?”

“Yeah.” Shiro has to lick his lips again. Arousal’s coiling tight and hot in his stomach; he does his best to ignore it for a moment, to focus on his shoulder and upper arm and feel if the stretch is too much. “Yeah, that should be fine.”

Allura leans in to kiss his shoulder, the swell of his tricep, and Shiro makes some small tender noise and sags in Hunk’s grip. And then, with a few passes of rope, his wrist is fastened snug to the harness around his chest. Hunk keeps going, passing rope to Allura as they work up his arm. Bands below and above his elbow, higher on his bicep, framing his muscles, all laced back into the harness to thoroughly secure his arm. He jolts between them as he reflexively tries to move the free one—the nonexistent one—and fails.

Keith soothes him through it.

The last coils of nerves fall away under his hands, shiver over Shiro’s skin, and leave him melting into the ropes. They hold him tight, a hug by proxy as Hunk and Allura finish, and he’s helplessly bound and free.

 

Day 7 — Praise kink

 

“Look at you,” Allura murmurs, tracing her fingers over the snug ropes framing Shiro’s chest. “So lovely.”

Shiro’s breath catches in his throat, and he turns his head away, pulls once at his bonds, hard. Hunk’s still holding the back of the harness as he fussily tucks in the ends, and he tightens his grip a little, and tied like this, without his prosthetic, Shiro’s pretty much trapped, whole torso under his control.

“Shiro,” Keith says, tender and firm, and nudges his fingers under his chin. He’s still standing, and it sinks into Shiro that he’s still on his knees in front of his husband, naked and collared and bound, and then he tips his head back with a sigh, letting Keith study his face. Keith runs his knuckles down through the drying streaks of come, and Shiro turns his head to kiss them, soft and reverent. “We weren’t planning to go easy on you,” Keith says quietly.

“Nnn.” Shiro feels the ropes immobilizing his arm, hugging his whole chest, unyielding. The ring seems heavier on his cock now, hanging low and full, out of his reach. The plug seems bigger too—though that might be true, given what Pidge has been up to. “No.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “Please don’t,” he whispers, and hope Keith understands.

And of course he does, because he’s Keith, so the next thing he hears is Allura’s voice, soft and sweet. “You’re so brave, to give us so much of yourself. And so generous. It’s an honor to have you like this, Shiro. And you’re being so very good.”

Shiro was almost ready, even. But nothing can ever quite prepare him for how easily she can reach down into the guts of him, the small and aching and vulnerable parts, and catch them in her hands. He shudders, full-body, fighting it for no reason he can put into words. Sheer reflex, maybe. Hunk’s still holding him by the harness. “I…I’m not…it’s not…”

“Ssshh.” Allura slides two fingers over his lips. “Listen to us,” she murmurs, and kisses him. Hunk’s broad hand at the back of his neck holds him in the kiss, and he’s still tied up, and Allura’s other hand nudges at his knees, coaxing him to spread his thighs more—which makes him clench hard around the plug. “Oh, lovely,” she breathes against his lips. “Good boy.”

“Seriously,” Lance says, earnest, from where he’s flopped somewhere nearby, and Allura turns to wave a hand at him, beckoning him closer. “You look amazing like this.” Allura’s kissing Shiro again, silencing his reflexive, half-formed protests. Lance slips into the cluster around him, hand sliding over his bicep. “You’re so gorgeous when you relax, when you really let go. God, the look in your eyes. And the way this frames your pecs…okay, that one’s also for you, man.” He nudges Hunk.

“Jeez, Allura helped,” Hunk mumbles, a little bashful. Shiro isn’t allowed to be bashful, apparently. Not with Allura sliding fingers into his mouth, murmuring _good boy_ again as he sucks on them, trembling just a little. “But you—you were so good for me.” Hunk’s voice drops, shading into something almost like awe. “And patient, and gentle, and brave.” He runs his broad hands over Shiro’s shoulders, between lines of rope—over his old prisoner number, probably. “Like Allura said—it’s an honor. Captain.”

Shiro sags trembling between them all, not sure he could form words even if they let him.

“Big sexy?” Pidge mutters somewhere nearby, sparking some muffled giggles. “What? Look, I’m not very good at this part.”

 

Day 19 — Cockwarming

 

“Lance,” Allura murmurs sweetly as she pulls back from kissing Shiro. “I think he’s a little too eager to talk back right now.”

“Yeah?” Lance’s face heats just a little. “You want me to do something about that?”

“I…I’m not talking back…” It’s pure reflex, the sort of gut-level need-to-prove-himself that he’d normally not even think twice on. It’s embarrassing. The plug grows another size inside him and his words die on a punched-out moan. He catches sight of Pidge somewhere, hand in her pocket, looking obnoxiously smug.

“Aww,” Hunk says, petting his hair. “You’re awesome, deal with it.”

“Help me lay him down?” Allura murmurs.

They steady him like he weighs nothing, and bundle him down to lie on his side on a low bench—his right, with a pillow under the shoulder implant, so he won’t pinch his bound arm. He pants and shivers, breathless from the manhandling, his own helplessness. Hunk’s cradling his head, fussing with pillows to keep his neck at a comfortable angle, and Allura’s tugging Lance into place, pliant and grinning.

“Keep Lance warm for us, why don’t you?” she says sweetly.

“Oh,” Lance whispers as Shiro lets his soft cock settle in his mouth, and his hands replace Hunk’s on his head. “ _Oh_.” He hunches over Shiro a little, melting hands wandering, pure affection. Shiro lets his eyes drift closed and basks in the smell of him and the velvety softness in his mouth.

“So good for us,” Allura says, smoothing her hand down his hip, and Shiro makes some muffled noise around Lance, all his protests cut off.

“This feels amazing, Shiro,” Lance says, a little breathless. “You’re so sweet and hot, and your tongue, right there…god, I could stay like this forever.”

Allura slips a hand under Shiro’s knee and lifts his leg, parting his thighs effortlessly—he can’t fight her, he _knows_ he can’t fight her, he’s not even trying, but knowing she could do it even if he was pushing back with all his strength leaves him giddy. Close to the edge of fear. But he’s safe. Another pair of hands joins hers, trailing up his inner thigh to tease around the base of the plug. Small, cool. Pidge.

“I think he’s ready for more,” she says. “What do you say, Shiro? Think you’re going to give us more now, let us in deep?” She tweaks the plug, nudging it inside him and making him moan, and her voice drops, dangerous. “You’re being such a good boy, after all.”

Allura pulls his leg up a little further, and Shiro shudders with arousal and makes some noise around Lance, and Lance ruffles his bangs and looks him square in the eye and says, “I think that’s a yes.”

Pidge’s nails dig into Shiro’s thigh, just once, possessive. “Mmm, excellent. Let’s see how much you’ve opened up already…”

The plug deflates, and Shiro makes some strangled noise around Lance, and closes his eyes. It’s an odd sensation—almost as intense as getting fucked, but in reverse. Then Pidge is pulling it out with slow, deft little twists, and there’s barely any strain as it pops free..

“Oh, yes,” she purrs, and trails a fingertip round his trembling rim. “There you are.”

“Shall we have someone fuck you, Shiro?” Allura asks sweetly. “Hunk, perhaps?”

“Nah, I wanna save it,” Hunk puts in, and a larger finger follows Pidge’s, inspecting. “‘Sides, let’s warm him up some more.”

“Mm, he might need it,” Allura says.

“Well, then I’m counting finger-banging him as my turn with his ass,” Pidge says practically.

“No pegging?” Hunk asks, a little surprised.

“Nah.” Her teasing finger turns into two, plunges deeper without resistance, and Shiro groans, sagging against Hunk a little. “Oh yes, that’s _very_ nice, keep doing that.” Her voice lightens again, talking to Hunk and not Shiro. “I like feeling him like this. Besides, I want to see how far I can get. We’re gonna need him _gaping_ , after all.”

There’s more, almost immediately—three fingers, Shiro supposes, and Lance, wide-eyed, strokes his cheek soothingly as he groans, anticipation coiling hot in his belly.

 

Day 16 — Nipple Play + Body Worship

 

“Okay also,” Lance whispers, reaching down to trace the lines of the harness. “I may have already mentioned the way this frames your pecs, but _wow._ ” He rearranges a little, cradling Shiro’s head with one hand, so the other can wander over his chest. “I still cannot even believe these are _real_ sometimes.”

“Not just those,” Pidge says, giving Shiro’s ass a hearty squeeze with her free hand, and he feels his face heat. “Could bounce a quarter off that. And his _thighs_. I can feel them shaking when I do this.” She twists her hand, hitting Shiro’s prostate, and he makes some shaky noise around Lance’s dick and, yes, shakes. His hand’s grasping at thin air where it’s bound behind his back. He feels oddly suspended, lying on his side like this with one leg hitched up—Allura’s steadying him, Hunk too sometimes, he’s safe, but it feels a little weightless. Even as it also pulls on the harness around his chest, making the rope dig into him—

Something tugs at his nipple, and he yelps, just a little.

“Yeah,” Lance breathes. “Those are really sensitive, aren’t they?”

“Fflaaahns,” Shiro manages, trying not to flinch away.

“Oh, man,” Hunk breathes. “Your abs, too, when you do that…” His fingers skim down Shiro’s body, just firm enough to not tickle. Lance tweaks, tugs again, goes for the other one low against the mattress. Pidge keeps groping his ass even as she finger-fucks him deep. “You’re a work of art,” Hunk says, in that slightly hesitant way he has when he really means it, and Shiro quails, screwing his eyes shut and burying his nose in Lance’s clean-shaven skin. They can see it all, Hunk’s hands are right over some of the worst scars—

Lance runs his hand softly through his hair. “Seriously. Perfectly sculpted.” His other hand twists a nipple, slow and sweet, wringing a moan out of Shiro in spite of the overwhelmed feelings clogging his throat. “There you go. Just relax. We want to see you pretty, yeah?”

“Yes,” Allura purrs. “Just like that.”

“Hey, Hunk,” Pidge says, “you know what he needs?”

Hunk makes a puzzled noise. Then some light dawns. “ _Ohhh_. Yeah yeah, but—oh right, you’re stuck.”

“I mean, I _could_ leave any time I wanted to, I just don’t think Shiro would be very happy about that.” Another curl of her hand punctuates that, and Shiro can’t help his moan, not with Allura stroking the back of his neck and driving away one more chill of resistance from his submissive haze. Hunk’s rummaging somewhere. Hunk’s coming back with something, and Shiro’s breathing a little fast—

Allura tugs on the back of his collar, just gently, and Lance’s soft cock slides from his lips in spite of himself, and he blinks down at his own body, nipples standing up hard as Lance fondles him. Then at the clothespins in Hunk’s hand, and he makes some quavery noise. Allura soothes him, and for a moment Hunk’s looking at her—murmuring, maybe, Shiro’s so pleasure-drunk he isn’t really following it. He keeps following the movement of Lance’s fingers, watching each twist, hearing the noises pulled out of him.

Then it’s Hunk’s fingers instead, thicker and hotter, a hard tug on one nipple. Then the jaws of the clamp settling around it. Shiro breathes faster, trying to brace himself—these clothespins are tight, it’ll ache. Not too much for him to take. Just—a lot. He’s in their hands. They want to see him like this. It’s terribly hot, it seems indulgent, but he accepts it, unresisting, almost curious, watching it happen. Hunk sets it around his nipple with care, letting it close slowly as he pants and shudders, and only lets go when he’s sure Shiro’s adjusted. Then the other one, and when that’s done, Hunk flicks one with a fingertip as if to make sure it won’t pop off.

Shiro almost howls.

“There we go,” Allura murmurs. “You are so delightful like this, Shiro.”

He makes some shaky noise, too far gone to even protest, and Allura pushes him forward again, guiding Lance’s dick back into his mouth to keep it warm and him wordless.

 

Day 1 — Deepthroating + Facesitting

 

“Hey, lemme have a turn?” Hunk asks, tapping Lance on the shoulder.

“Uh—yeah, sure…” Lance looks down at Shiro, bites his lip, ruffles his hair affectionately, and slowly eases back, sliding his half-hard cock out of Shiro’s mouth. Shiro breathes, licks his lips, tries to swallow, but he’s messy like this, lying on his side, arm bound, come drying on his face. He’s saved from trying to come up with any words whatsoever by Pidge twisting four fingers inside his ass, hitting his prostate, making him moan. Whatever embarrassment he’d felt earlier has been driven right out of his head by those clever fingers, along with anything resembling thought.

Hunk catches his mouth open with one thumb dragging at his lower lip, smearing the mess on his face, and tugs his hair with his other hand, adjusting the angle so Shiro’s head is tilted back. “Think you can take me all the way?” he whispers, a little breathless.

“Mm-mm,” Shiro says around Hunk’s broad thumb. He doesn’t know if he can. He wants to. Can’t possibly _not_ try, not like this. They can use him any way they want, that’s—that’s the point—god, Hunk’s fully hard when he unzips, dark-flushed and solid and _big_ , and the smell makes Shiro’s mouth water, his mind haze.

Hunk cradles his head in both his hands and feeds Shiro his cock, painfully slow. It’s an _invasion_ , gentle and unyielding. Shiro goes limp in the ropes that hold him, lets Hunk hold his head, and just swallows, and works him deeper, and tries to breathe. Pidge is keeping her hand mostly still, at least, letting him concentrate. Allura, holding his leg up so Pidge has easy access, rubs circles on his thigh muscles as he gags, once, shudders through it. “Look at you,” she purrs. “Taking him so beautifully…oh, there you go, sweetheart…”

He has to take a deep breath, he thinks dimly, and hold it. His nostrils flare. More of that heady smell. He’s closed his eyes—he’s floating somewhere, hands on him, helpless, ass open—curls of hair against the tip of his nose. Fingers rubbing the side of his throat, just above his collar. He can’t breathe, but somehow the panic is very far away, smoothed away by small human hands on his skin—his ears pound, faint and oceanic—Hunk pulls back out, just as slowly. He sucks air through his nose.

Twice. Thrice. He’s not sure what the hand up his ass is doing, but there’s this shuddering surrender running all through him, he’s opening for them like a flower—the voices are distant.

“Don’t wanna come, though, want to save it…”

“Then let me have his mouth next, I’m aching from watching you.”

“Aww, well be my guest…” Sliding back out. All the way. Shiro whines at the emptiness—his tongue might have hung out of his mouth for a moment, seeking contact, before he manages to pry his eyes open, try to get some sense of up and down. Allura letting his leg down, pressing his hips against the mattress, rolling him limp onto his back. Pidge goes with him, and he shudders and groans at the motion within as his whole body rotates around her hand.

Allura, naked, hair a glorious tumble, swings a knee over his shoulder and runs her hands over his face, hungry. “Are you quite comfortable?”

Her fingers in his mouth too. No need for words. He manages a nod, shaky.

She settles down. Her natural form. Pink lips unfurled, dripping, intoxicatingly sweet. Her clit’s as large as her thumb. She’s aching, she wasn’t joking. Pidge twists her hand and Shiro moans heedless into her cunt and Allura purrs, one hand fisting in his hair. He’s sloppy, sex-drunk, but there’s no need for technique like this, it’s all grinding and her clit rubbing over his crushed lips and the noises Pidge wrings out of him that vibrate all through her, and breathing is a sometimes thing, and time loses meaning.

 

Day 8 — Fisting

 

The pressure’s building, Shiro realizes in a distant sort of way. He doesn’t know how many of Pidge’s cool, insistent little fingers are inside him. He lost track somewhere around Allura’s first orgasm, and she’s building to another, cresting in little wave clusters like she does. Four? Fingers from both hands? There’s waves of raw, unhinged sensation rolling through his belly, turning his legs to jelly, and he’s aching hard in the cock ring, and the stretch is almost painful, but he doesn’t want it to stop, not ever.

“Ey, Allura,” comes Pidge’s voice from somewhere far away. “Is he breathing okay?”

“Yes,” Allura says, caught between moans as she rides Shiro’s face. “Why?”

There’s no answer. Sound of movement, maybe. Then Allura gasps. “Oh my.” Her hand slides fondly over Shiro’s chest. “You’re doing very, very well, dear one. Breathe deep and slow for us, all right?”

Shiro makes a vague, muffled noise against her clit, and breathes as best he can. Allura, sexually strategic, hurries herself along to another orgasm with some deft shimmying—he can feel her pulsing against his face, the sweet surge of moisture wrung out of her, the thrum of sympathetic satisfaction through his own body—and then slows down, murmuring sweet reassurances, eventually slinging her leg back over and dismounting entirely.

“Oh, _wow_ ,” someone—Hunk—whispers.

Shiro blinks into focus. His eyelashes are damp. Allura’s hand is smoothing down his messy hair and talking him through breathing deep and slow. Pidge must be fisting him, he thinks. All the fuss. That terrific stretch. There are bodies and hands moving around him, eyes on him. Allura hushes him when he tries to look down at himself—he catches glimpses, his cock hard against his belly, his thighs splayed and quivering, Pidge working with a great and tender focus that’s somehow shockingly intimate even when she isn’t meeting his eyes.

“Pidge,” Shiro manages, voice hoarse. “Pidge.”

“Sshhh,” she murmurs. “Keep breathing. Don’t psych yourself out.”

Her thumb moving—is that her thumb moving? Or her knuckles? Allura strokes his hair. He breathes.

The tipping point comes with a raw groan like he’s never heard from himself, almost exultant. It’s like finally figuring out how to really lean into a stretch—he _opens_ , and there’s a deep hot burn, and she makes some breathless noise as his body flexes and swallows her to the wrist. The fullness is stunning, almost literally. He feels like he’s in some sort of trance. Pressure against his prostate. Then she moves, just some little curl of her clever hand, and finally looks at him, eyes locked, as she punches an unearthly moan out of him.

“Holy shit, Shiro,” she breathes.

He wants to reach for her, but his arm only pulls weakly behind him. His legs are too limp to move—some instinct holds them splayed wide, as relaxed as he can get, and he’s unaccountably frightened of how it might hurt if he rearranged them now, with her hand filling all the space he’s opened up for her. “Pidge,” he croaks again, barely forming the consonants.

“Yeah. I’ve got you. I’m just gonna keep you here for a bit, okay?”

She does. She does, and he’s not even sure how long a bit is. The trance stretches. She moves, sometimes, those little earth-shattering twists, and the sensation against his prostate is nearly overwhelming. Building all through his core, burning. He realizes too late, and opens his mouth to warn her, and the only thing that comes out is a rattling moan as the orgasm cracks him open and turns him inside out, and he forgets how to breathe for a moment, and Pidge is watching him like she could devour him, and hands cradle him, stroke his hair as pleasure like he’s never felt is wrung out of him, and he’s floating in stars.

The Altean-tech ring around the base of his cock hums faintly, pulses, and he doesn’t ejaculate. All the pleasure without the comedown, so they can keep using him all night. Waves of it, rolling through him as his cock twitches deep red in empty air and the pressure against his prostate doesn’t—can’t—let up. It dies down finally, and he’s a boneless thing spread open to hold her hand, and her other hand is stroking his hip, soothing. “God,” he whispers. “Oh, god, that was…that was amazing…”

“Holy _shit_ , Shiro,” she says. “Wow. Okay. I’m gonna ease out to let you have a break and also sit on your face because I _really_ need to come.”

 

Day 14 — Cunnilingus + Tentacles

 

By the time Pidge safely works her hand back out of Shiro, he’s panting, with long and watery tremors running through him. Lance has been stroking his hair and kissing him softly—and can’t resist tweaking the clothespins on his nipples from time to time to make him gasp. Allura’s watching, one hand moving slowly between her legs, with a thoughtful and intent sort of look that’s dangerous on her, and there’s shimmers of energy running over her skin as she shapeshifts, but Shiro can’t quite see into what. Not with his head swimming like it is now. He’s _empty_ , and he’s still floating after that orgasm, and there’s a bit of milling as Pidge gets her shorts off and Hunk wipes down her hand, and then she’s slinging a wiry leg over Shiro’s shoulders.

“Just get me off, Jesus fucking Christ,” she says in a rush as she catches a handful of his hair.

Shiro lets her pull his head up a little and moans a _yes_ into her cunt. She really isn’t fucking around—sometimes she takes some warmup, but she’s slick and hot and her clit is full, and she’s grinding down with demanding little rolls of her hips like she’d fuck his face if it was bigger. The quivering emptiness fades—he’s got somebody to please, he can focus on that, he can be good. He curls his lips to give her something to fuck, finds the perfect place for his tongue, and she gives a very gratifying shudder and rising moan. “Yeah—yeah, just like that, don’t you dare move—god, you’re so good—”

Strong hands lift his knees, and something slick-wet and small slides into his ass. Smaller than Pidge’s fist at any rate. Not—he can see Lance’s thighs out of the corner of his eye, Hunk would be bigger—Keith? No. Keith’s hands are warm—he makes muffled noises into Pidge, squirming a little, and her hand tightens in his hair, demanding.

“Oh my god,” Lance breathes. “Oh holy shit yes—which set?”

“The—R’xxquanoth—” Allura’s voice breaks on a ragged moan. “I may as well enjoy this.”

“Oh _man_.” Shiro can hear the grin in Lance’s voice.

“Are you tentacling his ass,” Pidge gasps in a rush between rising cries. Shiro opens his eyes, looks up the length of her small body, her breasts bouncing a little as she grinds down on him, and meets her eyes, fierce and hungry. “Are there—tentacles that I can’t even—ohgodyes—see-ee—!” Her voice cracks entirely as the tension ratchets up. Her eyes haze a little, chasing pleasure, and Shiro keeps at it despite the wet coiling inside him that makes him groan into her—she climbs fast, but being let down halfway through is wretched—her nails are digging into his skull and she’s biting back high yelps—

The spring pops and Pidge comes, hard, violent tremors rolling through her as she howls, once, bites it back into a rattling groan, and squirts all over his chin.

“Oh yes,” she sighs as she remembers how to breathe again, gusting deep. “Oh yes.” She drags fingers through his hair. “You okay down there? Didn’t get anything up your nose?”

“Mm-mm.” Shiro nods, muffled. Savors the musty taste of her. Then he moans against her, soft and unwitting as another—tentacle?—slips inside him, soft and slick and infinitely dextrous. It’s not a stretch yet, but they’re starting to explore far deeper than Pidge could reach, and he pants, easing up on Pidge’s clit now that she’s come. It’s an almost unnervingly liquid sensation, sinuous, but mind-meltingly pleasurable, especially when another tentacle slides over his balls, coiling, teasing his cock.

“I’m just going to hang out here for a bit,” Pidge babbles, “that’s very nice.” She shifts a little, leans to one side. “Gonna turn around though. I want to see what Allura’s doing to you.”

Whatever muffled answer Shiro might have given is driven entirely out of his head by the tentacles _pulsing_ inside him, deep and insistent, and there’s a third circling his rim, and his noises are lost in Pidge’s cunt.

 

Day 3 — Sensory Deprivation + Temperature Play

 

“Hey, Hunk,” comes Pidge’s voice, muffled, from somewhere above Shiro. “Could you bring me some…” Her voice drops to a murmur as she clamps her narrow thighs around Shiro’s ears.

Shiro makes some shaky little noise against her. He can’t see anything but darkness and Pidge, wiry brown curls crushed against his chin as she rides his face. Can’t hear. Hands catch one of his legs, run soothingly down his thigh. Three, maybe four long and slick-wet and hot and very much alive tentacles slowly in and out of his wide-open ass, and he hasn’t even seen them, he just knows they’re Allura’s, and he’s floating, shivering head to toe with sensation. Something pulses. Allura’s cry of pleasure reaches even his muffled ears.

Pidge grinds against him, slow and demanding. Pidge. Make her happy. That’s his job now, that’s all he needs to worry about. She’s slick-wet, and her clit’s swollen, tender, big enough for Shiro to curl his tongue around, and that makes her thighs quiver. She doesn’t make much noise except when she’s coming, Shiro knows, it’s all in the little quivers, and he can’t hear her well anyway, and this is good, he’s doing well—

Ice cold trickles over his nipple. His clothespinned nipple.

He yelps, muffled, and Pidge just grinds down harder, filling his open mouth. A flick of her finger, jiggling the clothespin, and sparks of pleasure-pain run through his chest. Ice cold on the other, and yet somehow his skin feels red-hot in its wake. He shivers, thrashes a little, but the ropes hold him snug and Pidge just rides along and things slide in his ass and make his legs tremble. “Fugghh,” he groans into her, and again.

“Ooh, keep doing that.” She wiggles, tugs on his clamped and aching and terribly sensitive nipples. His whole skin feels crawlingly alive, feather’s-touch tingling, even more so given that he’s practically blindfolded with Pidge’s own body, and all he can do is feel whatever they want him to feel, and slick chill pools around his nipples and trickles down his sides. “Nice vibrations,” Pidge says cheerfully.

 

Day 5 — Feet

 

Soft hands slide down Shiro’s calf, kneading lightly.

Shiro moans into Pidge, strung out between sensations. Strange things twisting deep in his ass, inexorably opening him further. Ice water trickling down from his clamped nipples. His hand fists in the sheets under his back, holding on for dear life. Lance, he thinks, dim and scattered. Only Lance has hands like that, long-fingered and lotion-soft with the occasional rasp of gunner’s callus. Kneading over the arch of his bare foot now, and somehow that’s shockingly intimate, even with everything else. He never even _thinks_ about his feet unless he stubs his toe. Now—now there’s deep wrenching relief and pleasure under Lance’s fingers, sparks shooting up his spine.

Allura’s tentacles pulse inside Shiro as she comes again, howling, hands tightening on his thighs, and he arches and struggles and his toes curl, and then his big toe slides into something hot and wet. Slick. “Oh godh,” Shiro groans into the folds muffling his mouth, Pidge’s clit full and tender against his lip, and she squirms happily. “Oh godh.”

Lance is _sucking_ his _toes_. Soft little noises that he feels without hearing, hands kneading down his arch and heel. It knocks the wind out of him. He _shakes_ , whole body nerveless, outmatched by sensation, surrendering, taken captive. Allura takes merciless advantage of his surrender to slide another tentacle inside, opening him up so wonderfully impossibly wide.

Big warm fingers walk along his bound arm, nudge between his bicep and his chest. Hunk. Making sure his circulation is all right. Then two taps to his elbow, checking in. Slow, out of his skull, Shiro manages to kick his other heel against the mattress twice in response. His legs are rubber. He’s moaning as fast as he can draw breath, waves of sensation rolling through his body—it’s too much, but god, he couldn’t bear for it to stop, not ever.

 

Day 22 — Hand Jobs + Threesome (or more) (sure that's the entire fic but I'll claim that)

 

A slick hand curls around the head of Shiro’s cock.

He barely even recognizes the moan he makes into Pidge. Somebody—Hunk—blurts, “Oh my god, he’s gonna explode.”

“Well, that’s why we put that ring on him,” Pidge says, sensible as always, and grinds down hard on his face. “Hell yes, Allura, this is gonna be brilliant.”

Allura, then. Her palm slides, slow and exacting, over the most sensitive parts just around the head, then gives one firm stroke up and down his length, and he can’t help the whine and jerk of his hips. Her touch is utterly confident, inexorable. He clenches around her as he shudders, her tentacles pulsing in his ass, and somewhere there’s some sweet breathy noise—Allura, those tentacles are sensitive, he’s so drunk on sensation he can hardly think. Another pulse, firm against his prostate.

He fights it on instinct, trying to endure, and that only makes the sensation more intense, pleasure rattling through his body as he’s dragged close to orgasm in spite of himself. Lance holds his ankle to steady his shaking leg, and Shiro feels gratitude somewhere in his flying-away mind—wouldn’t want to kick him, not like this—

“Oh darling,” Allura breathes. “It’s very sweet of you, but you don’t need to hold back. Just relax. Let it come.”

He trembles full-body, breathes deep as he can, tries to let go. He’s theirs, he’s hers, his body’s in her hands and she can do what she wants—

“Good boy,” she purrs.

—that just makes it more intense, like she’s reaching into the core of him and pulling out his helpless orgasm—

Pain sparks white-hot in his nipples.

He comes, and keeps coming as her tentacles tease her prostate, vision sparking, howling as spasm after spasm of earth-shattering orgasm runs through him, bone-dry from the ring. His nipples _ache_ , raw and tender—Pidge must have pulled off the clamps—tiniest graze of her thumb is lightning down his spine—

“Beautiful,” Allura whispers.

 

Day 15 — Overstimulation

 

Allura’s hand slows on Shiro’s cock, but she doesn’t let go, and he’s raw from his stifled orgasm, and her tentacles are still coiling against his prostate, filling him deep and thick and overwhelming. Lance drags his tongue up the tender arch of his foot, and Hunk’s smoothing his broad thumb over one aching nipple, and Pidge grinds lazily against his face and says something he can’t hear, and Allura’s hand moves and he screams, shaking in the ropes. Up and down. Excruciatingly slow, but he’s so sensitive, his skin is crawling, his whole body is on fire, it’s barely pleasure anymore, yet he’s not sure he wants it to stop.

His mind is white. It stretches. He doesn’t know how long. He can barely breathe for the screaming, and he’s writhing uncontrollably. He—doesn’t want to kick Lance—but it’s so much, it’s too much, he just needs to breathe, he just needs—

“Ello,” he croaks against Pidge’s clit.

She practically levitates off him, hovering, and he can see all the dusky pink of her.

“Yellow—don’t please—just give me—I need a moment—”

Hunk reaches over, catches Pidge around the waist, and scoops her bodily off Shiro’s face. Allura goes very still, inside and out, and lifts her hand off his cock feather light, and Lance looks up and lets Shiro’s foot rest on his thigh, not breaking contact.

“Just—need to breathe,” Shiro pants, and there’s a strange twisting sensation in his belly. They’re all just looking at him—well, Hunk’s setting Pidge carefully down nearby—and he’s…

Allura, in her most wonderfully soothing and reasonable voice, asks, “Do you need to be untied?”

“No—please no.” Shiro squeezes his eyes shut.

“I think we should shake it up,” Keith says, low and firm. Right. Keith. He’s here, still watching, like he’s waiting his turn. His voice is closer than Shiro expected, and he opens his eyes to see Keith leaning over him, warm hand in his hair as his breathing steadies. “Do you want someone to just use you, no messing around or making you come, just fucking?”

Shiro feels a shudder of relief like it’s turning him inside out, and turns his face into Keith’s hand, and nods, shaky. “Y-yeah. That was—it was really good, but…”

“I know.” Allura smoothes her hand down his thigh with a warm smile. “We pushed you hard, dear one, and you took it so beautifully.”

Shiro whines into Keith’s hand, worry gnawing at him. “Did I do enough, did you have your turns…”

“Oh, yes.” Allura’s voice is kind, unstrained. “Far more than my turn, really. And you were very, very good for me.” She presses her fingers to her lips, then hovers them right over the tip of his cock, not quite making contact. “I’ll pull out one at a time, if that’s all right?”

Shiro nods, shaky, not quite scraping together words. “Yeah,” says Keith.

“Don’t you dare worry about me,” Pidge says with a lopsided smile. “You were fabulous, this is your night. I can always go annex Lance if I need to make somebody scream more.”

“Why am _I_ public property,” Lance grouses with a smile. “Why me. Keith’s more into pain anyway.” He bows his head to kiss the top of Shiro’s foot, pure affection, almost reverent, and then stands and stretches. His cock bounces, hard again, and he frowns down at it. “Do I still get another turn?”

“Mm,” says Keith. “Yeah, you do. Me and Hunk too. Shiro?”

Shiro makes some muzzy noise as one of Allura’s tentacles slides free, leaving him just a little bit emptier.

“So you want someone to fuck you?” Keith’s eyes flick around the room, once, and he stands back, hand trailing away through Shiro’s hair. “Beg Hunk for it.”

 

Day 2 — Begging

 

“Please,” Shiro breathes. “Fuck, Hunk, please.”

His voice is wrecked. He feels frayed, fumbling, it’s hard to even speak after they’ve all used his mouth so hard. He tries to roll over, get a better look at Hunk, who’s taking a step closer with a questioning look on his face, but his legs are rubber, his whole body a raw nerve, he doesn’t quite have the leverage with his arm bound. Hunk’s naked now, Shiro doesn’t know when, and that glorious cock of his is right there at eye level, and he wants it buried in him so, so much.

Allura strokes his thigh soothingly. Pidge, much less nice, just shoves a knee under his shoulder to lever him up a little and catches him by the hair so he can’t look away.

Keith just watches with his hand lazily tugging on his own balls and a burning intensity in his eyes.

“Please fuck me,” Shiro manages, and he has to close his eyes for that, because saying the words and looking up at Hunk as Pidge holds his hair is too much all at once. “Please just—fu, flip me over, spread my legs, fuck me—” Pidge tugs at his hair and his eyes fly open in spite of himself, and Hunk’s looking at him with something like _awe_. “Use me however you like, deep and hard as you like, use my—” He chokes on the words for a moment, struggles against the rope just a little, and Allura and Lance both smooth their palms down his legs, calming him. “Use my ass like you used my mouth, take me, Hunk _please_ , god, why are you looking at me like that, please _—_ ”

“Jesus,” Hunk breathes, and practically teleports the last few steps. Allura and Lance slide gracefully aside—Lance’s hands drag down Shiro’s calf and foot in farewell, Allura’s last tentacle slips out and leaves him aching-empty and twitching—Hunk slides one big hand into the front of the rope harness around his chest and lifts him bodily off Pidge’s lap. Shiro moans, dizzy. Opens up heedlessly as Hunk kisses him, deep and urgent and sloppy. “Yeah,” Hunk whispers, breath hot against Shiro’s lips. “I’m gonna do you good.”

 

Day 4 — Mirror Sex + Spitroasting

 

Shiro’s ready for Hunk turning him around like he’s a rag doll and sliding him onto his dick. At least as ready as one ever can be for that sort of thing. Gravity drags him down to the hilt, and Shiro sways, lets his head fall back with a thick moan that’s punched out of him, utterly heedless. Hunk _fills_ him, solid and deep, and some last coil of tension in his belly finally lets go, because there’s nothing left in his head but taking this, being fucked, splayed open, long as he needs.

“Open your eyes,” Hunk whispers in his ear, even as he bounces him on his cock with one fist on the rope harness to steady him.

Shiro opens his eyes.

 _He’s_ _there_. Chest and arm and cock bound, face dripping with come, nipples red, drunk with pleasure. He’s there and he’s reeling, making ragged noises in the back of his throat, trying to look away from his reflection, but Hunk won’t let him. Hunk’s face right next to his, heat in his eyes—and in his cheeks, he’s not unaffected by this either, as Shiro realizes muzzily. It’s oddly reassuring.

He’s never felt this naked. This exposed. God, does he really look like this—fucked up in more ways than one—

Allura’s standing next to the mirror, naked, tentacles coiling into a nest between her thighs, with no less grace and confidence than in her fullest gown, and she smiles, eyes alight. “We adore you like this, Shiro,” she murmurs. “Never forget that.”

The man in the mirror flushes, ears red, but there’s far more rapture on his face than embarrassment. Gratitude, even. He can’t find words. They’re all dried up. Keith’s beside Allura. Keith must have said this was all right.

Pidge, closer, blurs as his focus slides between the mirror and Allura and her, and she sticks her small, demanding fingers in Shiro’s mouth. He sucks without even thinking, cheeks hollowing, face heating as he sees how reflexive it is. “We really should spitroast him. Lance, you wanna?”

“Oh god yes please,” Lance blurts, and scrabbles up beside her. “I never say no to more Shiro blowjobs.” He’s well and truly hard again by now, and Shiro makes some wretched noise of relief as Hunk lowers him, lets him forget about the mirror. So much easier to be dropped on his chest, Lance’s cock sliding inexorably back home as those slim hands cradle the back of his head.

Hunk readjusts his grip in the ropes, still lifting some of Shiro’s weight so he isn’t just tipped over on his face, and there’s a few still moments as Shiro lets his eyes slide closed, mind hazing, stuffed full.

Then Hunk’s first thrust rocks him like a doll, forward to take Lance’s cock gagging-deep, back onto Hunk to the root, and Shiro doesn’t even recognize the wild, garbled moan as his own until Lance whines in something like awe. “Shit, Hunk, I can _feel_ him moaning…”

“That’s—the idea—” Hunk manages, voice a little strained, and starts fucking him in earnest.

 

Day 13 — Creampie

 

Shiro isn’t sure how long it is until Hunk groans and tightens one hand on his hip—it doesn’t matter, really, he’s one raw nerve and in a delicious mindless haze of getting fucked, Lance is twitching on the brink in his mouth, making wild noises and trembling every time Hunk’s thrusts drag him deep, and Allura has moved around to stroke his hair and whisper things in his ear and for a while her hand is clamped around his balls, and Shiro notices this only in little, disordered slices because he’s mostly floating.

Then Hunk quickens, a few brutal little rabbit-thrusts, and Shiro can feel the heat inside him, his cock pulsing, and moans in satisfaction around his mouthful. He’s made him come. He’s doing what he needs to do. It’s not over, there’ll be somebody to fuck him after Hunk, right?

“Good boy,” Allura purrs, and maybe it’s to both of them, because she gives Lance’s balls another tug and guides him out of Shiro’s mouth. Shiro whines a little at that—he’s empty, he’s not ready to be empty—Allura slides her fingers into Shiro’s mouth inside, three, four, deep and demanding, and it’s almost as good. “Go take your turn, Lance, why don’t you?”

“Y-yeah—shit, I’m not gonna last…” Lance clambers around. Hunk rearranges Shiro a little with Allura lending a hand, lays his chest on a pillow so he’s not absolutely crimping his neck, holds his ass in the air with his legs spread wide. He’s gaping, he realizes. That’s the strange sensation—cool air, threads of warm wet trickling over his wonderfully raw skin. Hunk, dripping out of him. “Oh Jesus Harriet and the little fishes,” Lance breathes, sounding almost giddy.

“Yeah,” Hunk says, voice low and a little strangled, one hand propping Shiro’s ass in the air. “Add yours.”

Lance’s hands clutch at Shiro’s hips, and then he slides home with gutwrenching ease, punching a groan out of him that’s only a little muffled by Allura’s hand, and he still sounds like he has a cock in his mouth. Lance scrabbles for purchase, and curses low and melodic, and fucks him in this brief, desperate little roller-coaster between demandingly fast and slow like he’s trying to eke out another few seconds. Lance comes with a transcendent cry, adding himself to the mess of lube and tentacle-ooze and Hunk.

 

Day 27 — Exhibitionism/Voyeurism

 

Allura’s pulled her hand out of his mouth—sometime before Lance came, he doesn’t know when—and he lolls on his pillows with his ass in the air, and then he hears her murmur, “Enjoying the view, Keith?”

Shiro’s eyes snap open, face heating.

Keith’s sitting on the low sofa, pants shed the rest of the way, and his gaze catches Shiro’s like fire. Devouring. Legs spread aggressively, cock standing hard against his belly. His throat bobs as he swallows, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and his nails dig slowly into the inside of his own thigh.

Somebody’s finger grazes over Shiro’s achingly empty ass, and he moans, breath hitching, no way to hide it.

Keith’s eyes spark.

“Yeah,” Pidge murmurs appreciatively. “Call a police and a fireman.” She’s sprawled on some pillows next to Keith, hand working lazily between her legs, and Shiro’s face heats at the realization, and he looks a little further over and sees that mirror again, and there’s nothing to hide. From any of them. They can’t see his ass, but they see every little twitch and shudder he can’t hold back as somebody—Lance?—teases him—

“Look at me,” Keith says, low and absolute, and it’s like he’s reached into the roots of Shiro’s soul and tugged. Looking anywhere else isn’t even an option anymore. The world narrows to Keith, the hands on his skin. Keith’s collar around his neck. Keith’s hand curling around the base of his own cock, squeezing, muscles playing in his forearm.

There are voices. Pidge. “Also Allura, get over here and give me your tentacles, I know they still want some.”

“Uhhh.” Hunk, fussing.

“Jeez, Hunk, I’m not going to AtV in front of you, this is how I show my love.”

Allura laughing, carding a hand through Shiro’s hair, and tugging him up to balance on his shaking arm for a moment before shoving another pillow under his chest. “Don’t hide your face, dear. Lance?”

“Yeah?” Fingers tracing down to his balls, bundled forward and tight from the ring.

“You’ve got a lovely view back there, I’m sure. Why don’t you fill us all in?”

 

Day 20 — Dirty Talk

 

“Hot _damn_ ,” Lance breathes, fervent, and one finger circles Shiro’s raw-tender rim, not quite dipping inside. “Yeah, you’re right, I so do. He’s winking when I _touch_ him.” His voice drops, hoarse, as he leans over Shiro. “You still want more, don’t you?”

Shiro, face hot and sticky with come, makes some faint noise in his throat. Lance’s voice runs over his skin like a soft drag of fingernails, warm and tingling.

“You’re soaked,” Lance purrs in his ear. “You’re dripping come on my hand, we filled you up so much.”

“God, you’re wrecked,” Hunk murmurs. Big hand running over his back. “You’re so gorgeous—you look so _happy_.”

“And desperate,” Pidge adds from—somewhere. Shiro hasn’t been able to break Keith’s gaze. “Look at his cock, it’s freaking twitching. He’d come from a light breeze if we hadn’t tied that up.”

Lance’s palm skims up the underside of his cock, just once, and Shiro chokes out a moan and bucks—towards, away, he can’t even tell. “So hard. You’re aching for it, aren’t you?”

“And so very sensitive,” Allura puts in, with a little gasp in her voice from whatever Pidge is doing. “Moaning at the faintest touch. Such a pretty thing.”

“You love this so damn much,” Lance goes on. “Being tied up and fucked silly while we all watch— _captain_.”

Lance’s other hand is in his hair. Not pulling him anywhere. Like he’s just holding him, right there, for Keith to see. Like he wouldn’t let Shiro look away even if it occurred to him.

Keith hisses between his teeth at the title, once, low, and his own cock twitches in his palm.

“What do you say, sir?” Lance asks Keith, voice soft and dangerous, and Shiro can hear the shit-eating grin in it. “Want to add your load?”

 

Day 25 — Olfactophilia (Scent)

 

Keith’s hand twitches, jerks downwards, wraps around his own balls, and _pulls_.

“Pidge,” he hisses through his teeth, “give me a hand here.”

“Hand?” Pidge asks dryly, and leans over to bite his ear, almost casually. Allura makes a faint disgruntled noise and shimmies after her, tentacles twining eagerly through Pidge’s fingers.

“Fuck him,” Lance whispers like it’s a mystical chant, breath tickling Shiro’s own ear. “Fill him up, make him yours.”

The scent hits Shiro even before Keith changes. He’d never noticed it in battle, not when they’re sealed in their spacesuits, but here, in this room filled with the smell of sex, it boils off Keith’s bare skin. Not as thick and sour as pureblood Galra. A dusty undertone like incense, uniquely Keith, and to Shiro, all it means is sex. All it means is Keith building up the adrenaline to push his body over the edge and _change_. Just so he can fuck Shiro into oblivion.

Shiro’s lips are moving without sound, and he whines and strains for Keith. The scent’s a punch of raw arousal, need, and he’s too far gone to even think of hiding it.

“He wants you,” Lance goes on. “ _Look_ at him, sir. He’s slick, he’s ready, he’s aching for you. He wants you to split him open.”

Keith’s teeth are bared, and it starts there, his canines sharpening. His eyes flicker. His nails dig into his balls, and his muscles ripple, and his cock is already dusky purple from how hard he is, and then it’s growing as he shudders. Darkening a little. The skin on his head puckers into nubbles, and soft spines fold out down the shaft, and he lurches to his feet. Two, three uneven steps, and he drops to his knees in front of Shiro with a grunt. Where Shiro is still mostly on his face, ass in the air, and Keith’s cock is somewhere above his head, huge-looking so close, and thick with his scent.

“You’re gonna ride me,” Keith breathes, and his fingers trace Shiro’s messy face. Athletic for him, to fuck Shiro like that. Easy to hold his form. His gloves are the only thing he’s still wearing, and the smell of the leather hits Shiro along with the rest, and his eyes roll back a little as he moans.

Somewhere Allura kisses Pidge and disentangles herself, and Shiro barely notices except that there are bare brown feet somewhere in the corner of the his vision, and his tongue is almost hanging out of his mouth.

“God,” Keith says, low and frayed, and his fingers trace Shiro’s tongue. “You’re beautiful like this. When you let yourself _want_.”

 

Day 18 — Xenophilia

 

“Help me hold him up?” Keith whispers, and there’s the sort of raw hitch in his voice that means he’s holding himself together with silly string and a prayer.

Hunk and Allura both close in like it’s a dance, hands hooking into the rope. “Is it all right if we’re close?” Allura murmurs in Shiro’s ear, and he nods with a desperate little noise.

“Please. Please.”

Their arms slide around him, lifting him without effort, even holding up his legs for him. The world moves. He feels warmth dribbling out of him, and he’s an utter wreck, and he’s so far beyond caring. He’s flying. Lance is murmuring something with Keith as he works lube over Keith’s dick, and Pidge’s small fingers dip inside Shiro to get him even wetter, and Hunk’s cradling him tenderly while Allura takes his body weight by the harness, and then Shiro sees yellow cat eyes and makes some noise of sheer yearning.

“We’ve got you,” Keith breathes, taking his face in one hand, and his kiss has the bite of fangs behind it, and the nubbled head of his cock is teasing Shiro’s hole where he dangles. “I’ve got you.” He folds his hand over the collar, over the back of his neck, and Shiro whimpers, because now, this spread open, no defenses left, Keith’s holding his naked soul in his hands. They all are. His skin is buzzing warm against skin and he isn’t sure where one of them begins and the other ends, except that the cock starting to slip inside him is Keith. All Keith.

He’s long like this, nearly as thick as Pidge’s fist. They let him down slowly, and his legs shake like jelly as he takes Keith to the root. Hands run through his hair, soothing him. His legs won’t _stop_ shaking. He’s a limp rag. “Please,” he whispers, again, and Keith makes some thin noise through his teeth.

“God. _Shiro_.”

It’s the texture that’s truly devastating. The backwards-pointed spines spiraling down Keith’s cock are rubbery-soft. No risk of injury, but the sensation is spine-wrenchingly intense on the way out. Keith flexes, pulling slowly out an inch or two as Shiro shudders and wails. A snap of his hips to drive him back home, a short stroke, like he’s testing, and whatever raw cry Shiro gives must be good enough.

Keith’s hand tightens on his collar, and he kisses him like he could suck his heart out through his mouth and starts fucking him in earnest. He’s probably rocking in Allura’s grip, boneless. They’re probably watching him, touching him. All he knows is that he’s screaming and he can’t stop. It’s white-hot pleasure like freefall, and his mind is blank, and he’s free. There’s nothing between him and exultation, and he might be gasping Keith’s name between the howls, and some desperate ache of a stifled orgasm slams through him, and Keith doesn’t even slow down. His cock’s bumping—something, his belly, Keith’s belly, Hunk’s hand, something warm, and there’s friction, and he aches raw and couldn’t bear for it to stop.

“Fuck.” It’s under Keith’s breath like a mantra. “Come on. Just a little. Longer.”

Shiro, convulsing, is timeless. Somewhere behind him somebody murmurs in awe.

“Lance,” Keith breathes, teeth grazing Shiro’s lip. “Pidge.”

The ring around Shiro’s cock pops open, then slick soft fingers wrap around it, stroking.

After all the wrenching half-orgasms, finally ejaculating feels like bursting into air after a deep dive. It _lasts_ , pulse after pulse. Keith’s twitching deep inside him, grinding in to the root, and there’s heat surging, and their cries are lost in each other’s and his fingers are clutching the back of Shiro’s neck.

Somebody’s clapping. “ _Magificent_ ,” Allura breathes near his ear. Shiro blinks away something wet and hot from his eyes, and realizes he’s floating in their arms, and his body’s still trembling around Keith’s cock, but that’s smaller now, sleek and human, and the sudden loss of overstuffed fullness makes it all seem vaguely unreal, and then he realizes he’s smiling. He’s _grinning_ , panting open-mouthed, the kind of silent, shaking joy that almost verges on sobbing, and Keith’s fingers are tracing his lips, and when he manages to focus, Keith is smiling back.

 

Day 31 — Wild Card — Aftercare

 

He’s not touching the ground.

They’re holding him, face still crinkled with joy, one leg piled on Lance’s where he’s wrapped around Keith like a second skin. Pidge’s side against his other hip, and he’s flopped on Hunk’s chest with his face in his shoulder as Allura gently unties his arm, rubbing soothingly where the rope falls away. Hunk massages his bicep, helps him unfold it as he makes some soft, aimless noise of relief, and Keith claims it with slightly shaky hands to press his face into his palm.

They’re talking, soft and gentle. He did wonderfully. The bath’s still hot; they’ll clean off all the come when he’s ready. Let them know when he wants the harness off, the collar off. He whines at the last, shakes his head, and somebody’s hand folds over the buckle, protective. Still theirs. Still happy.

He thinks, vaguely, that he should sit up somehow, help them, but he can’t figure out how, and somebody’s making shushing noises, and for a while he’s just there, harness still snug around his chest, as Pidge sticks the straw of a drink pouch in his face. He’s thirsty, and drinks. Somebody’s petting his hair. He keeps smiling into the crook of Hunk’s shoulder, dumb and loopy, and all the skin against his skin is making him high, and there’s this achy-content solidity swelling somewhere under his ribs, and what he truly needs to do, he realizes, is try to put into words how grateful he is.

It comes out muzzy and not very coherent, and gets him a lot of gentle pets and kisses and no-thank- _yous_ , which worries him. He isn’t getting the point across. He tries again.

“It was our pleasure, Shiro,” Allura says, soothing. “Truly.”

“Repeatedly,” Lance adds with his own loopy grin.

“You did _amazing_ , holy crap,” Hunk says, and that’s probably one of the hands in his hair now, big and warm.

“But you,” Shiro manages. “You all…”

Pidge butts her head against his shoulder. “Yeah, we’re awesome, you’re awesome, we’re all awesome.”

“It’s not about exchanges,” Keith says, quiet and firm, kissing his ring. “We love you, Takashi.”

His given name like that, in front of all of them, sends him reeling. And it’s _Keith_ , hell-bent for years on paying a debt Shiro had never intended, coming around like that, and that flattens him. He’s _shaking_ , single hand clutching at Keith’s as he squeezes back. “Love you,” he whispers, fervent. “Keith. Hunk, Lance, Allura, Pidge, I…you all. Love you.”

“Yeah.” Keith squeezes closer; Lance comes with him like the shirt on his back, both of them contact-needy.

“You too, dummy.” Pidge unfolds, gets an arm around him, small and soft and insistent, and kisses his cheek. Hunk kisses his forehead. Allura wraps snug around his back.

The bath will come, unwinding the harness, all of that. But now—now they hold him, and there’s happiness swelling in his chest, and something inside him is clean and bright, and all the cramped circles his mind had moved in have broken open, reset.


End file.
